


Close Call

by notlucy



Series: Additional Information [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adulthood, Aftercare, And then there's the sex, Arguing, BDSM, Bratting, Bucky needs to pick up his mail, Compromise, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Makeup Sex, Making Up, Money, Oral Sex, Over the Knee, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Coital Cuddling, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Sort Of, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, fighting over food, kind of, reasonable disagreements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Bucky and Steve make it through two weeks of living together before the inevitable "first fight" of cohabitation. They (mostly) handle it like adults. And the makeup sex is killer, in Bucky's not-so-humble opinion.





	Close Call

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place 4-5 months after the main action of _[Proprietary Information](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777)_ , between Bucky's moving in with Steve and starting school (July and August in the epilogue). If you haven't read that story, this will make no sense.

The thing about moving in with your boyfriend was that it was hard to feel like his space was _your_ space. Especially when said boyfriend was rich, with a professional interior decorator, and your stupid stuff felt out of place when you stuck it on a shelf, and your clothes took up like...no space in the half of the closet he’d cleared for you.

Not that Bucky was feeling that way after two weeks of living together, oh no. And if he was, it was on him - none of it was Steve’s fault. Steve had been nothing but accommodating and excited about the move, and Bucky didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Even if he was feeling a little stifled. And jumpy. And maybe just the _tiniest_ bit suffocated.

The last one was probably what made the fight inevitable.

It all started because Bucky forgot to forward his mail when he moved. Because who thought about stuff like that? Natasha, apparently, who gave him an earful after depositing an armful of envelopes in his lap when they met for lunch on a Tuesday.

“They have this thing,” she said. “Called the Internet. You can set up your new address with the post office. Or, like, call these companies and tell them you’re living with Steve now and to please send your phone bill to his place.”

“I just...assumed they’d kind of figure it out?” Because that was a thing that happened.

“You’re hopeless,” Natasha said, before reaching over to steal a fry from his plate. He tried to grab it back, protesting that if she was going to order a salad and be virtuous, she didn’t get to bogart his grease.

Natasha vehemently disagreed with that assessment.  

 

* * *

 

Steve usually got home from work between six and eight, though it varied depending on his schedule and how busy things were at the office. He was, however, pretty good about letting Bucky know when he was on his way. That evening, Bucky got a text at six, stating that Steve was just leaving, and he was going to pick up Vietnamese from the place they liked.

> _Aw no i cooked_

Bucky was a terrible liar.

> _You’re a terrible liar._
> 
> _Yup. feed me seymour._
> 
> _Home in twenty._

(Bucky was never going to get over Steve using the kissy face emoji. Ever. Or him calling it ‘home’ like it was a thing that belonged to both of them and not just a place where Bucky was temporarily crashing. Which was maybe sometimes how he felt still. It had only been a couple weeks, after all.)

Sure enough, twenty minutes later he heard the elevator doors open and Steve called out a greeting.

“I’m in here,” Bucky called back.

“Here” was the living room, where he’d been going through his mail. Most of it was junk, though there were a few pleasant surprises, including a settlement check for four dollars and twenty-seven cents from a class action suit against his cable company he hadn’t even been aware he’d been a part of.

“Hi, in here,” Steve said as he entered the room, holding a plastic takeout bag full of delicious smelling goodies.

Bucky was _not_ going to laugh at that stupid joke, he decided. Not even when Steve leaned over the back of the couch to kiss him hello, looking all stupidly handsome in his dark grey suit and tie, because apparently, he’d had a board meeting.

“What’s all that?” Steve asked as he pulled back.

“Oh, Nat gave me all my mail,” he said, waving at the piles. He’d loosely separated it into ‘junk,’ ‘also junk but I want to look at the catalogs’ and ‘possibly important.’ “Did you know you can like...change your address with the post office?”

“Yeah, I heard something about that, pal.” Steve reached down to pluck the LL Bean catalog off his lap, coming around to the front of the couch and setting the takeout bag on the coffee table. “Since when do you get this?”

“Uh, since you bought me half their inventory?”

“Huh,” Steve smiled. “Hey, is your tuition bill in there?”

Bucky shrugged, reaching for another envelope that was probably a credit card offer. “Nah, they don’t do paper bills. I paid it online a couple weeks ago.”

Steve’s smile faded. “You paid it? How?”

That was a stupid question. “With the severance money I got.” Said severance money had been sitting in his account since the day he’d received the check from StarkTech. He hadn’t spent a dime of it, no matter how tempted he was. The money was nearly enough for his entire first semester’s tuition. He’d cover the rest with loans. He already had undergrad debt, so what was another couple thousand? (Tens of thousands, actually, but he wasn’t dwelling on it.)

Steve’s frown deepened. “Bucky...I can...you shouldn’t…” He was foundering, which was unusual - stammering was more Bucky’s thing. “I was going to take care of it,” Steve settled on finally.

“Oh,” Bucky said. He hadn’t really thought about Steve offering, truth be told, and he would never have dreamt of asking. The idea was sweet, and he could see where Steve got it, considering Bucky didn’t turn down gifts from him. But tuition was different. He could take care of himself - _wanted_ to take care of himself when it came to securing his career and his future. “No...thank you. I’ve got it covered.”

Steve didn’t say anything, pursing his lips and bending over to open the bag of food, pulling out containers and setting them on the table. “I...respectfully, Bucky, how exactly do you have it covered?”

That didn’t sound super respectful, Bucky thought, as he gathered his mail and deposited it on the floor. “ _Respectfully_ , Steve, I’m doing what normal people do. Taking out loans. And I have a job.”

“I got bánh bao,” Steve said, the non-sequitur throwing Bucky for a loop. “Do you want some?”

“Uh, yes?” he said, taking the plastic container when it was handed to him.

“Why would you take out loans?” Oh, so they weren’t done. Steve was just hungry. “The interest rates are ridiculous, and the companies are predatory.”

Bucky pulled the lid off the food and used his fingers to pick up one of the pork buns before shoving it into his mouth. He then proceeded to talk around it, because he knew that drove Steve crazy. “Yes, thanks, Steve. I do have debt already, you know.”

Steve threw him a sharp look. “What?”

“SUNY’s a state school, but it wasn’t free,” he said after swallowing. “My parents have _four_ kids.”

“I...right, of course,” Steve said. “I mean, I had loans, too. But why would you take out _more_?”

Bucky spoke slowly, which was kind of a dick move, but whatever. “Because I want to be a therapist. That requires school. School costs money.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over the couch in a way that Bucky thought was profoundly off-putting. “You know what I mean. Just let me pay.”

“No,” Bucky said. Steve was obnoxious. “I’m doing it myself. I can take _care_ of _myself_.”

“Nobody said you couldn’t!”

“You literally just said I should let you pay my tuition!”

“That’s not the same thing as you not being able to take care of yourself!” Steve was worked up now, using his arms to gesticulate as he spoke. It made him look ridiculous. “Jesus, Bucky, I don’t want you saddling yourself with a six percent interest rate on loans to attend one of _the_ most overpriced schools in the country, and you’re acting like I'm unreasonable!”

Somehow, Steve could still sound like a huge dork even when he was pissing Bucky off. It was his superpower. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I want to ensure my own future this time, _Steve_.”

It was a low blow, and he knew it. The wound from what happened in the spring had healed, but the scar tissue hadn’t fully set in yet. Steve’s face clouded over.

“You think I’d fuck with your future if we broke up again?” he snapped. “I’ll pay the whole goddamn two years up front.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Typical Steve, missing the point entirely. “Yes! I know! You have endless money and resources, and I should be grateful you want to lavish me with such riches. But dammit, Steve…” He wasn’t entirely sure how he wanted to finish that sentence, so he picked up a fork and stuck another bun in his mouth to buy some time.

Steve didn’t respond, though he had a wounded look in his eyes, watching Bucky as he chewed on what, in retrospect, was way too much food. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he picked up a takeout container of his own, walking over to sit down in one of the armchairs. Keeping distance between them.

“I wasn’t aware,” he said finally, his voice controlled as he stabbed violently at whatever was in the container. “You found my doing things for you such a _burden_.”

Bucky couldn’t help it, he snorted. Steve was _such_ a drama queen. Swallowing the dumpling with as much dignity as he could muster, he shrugged. “This is different.”

“Enlighten me,” Steve said, his tone cool. Because not only was he extra dramatic, he got his feelings bruised exceedingly easily, Bucky had learned.

“I got into school by myself,” Bucky said, trying to be less antagonistic. He wanted Steve to understand why it was important, that was all. “I took the GRE by myself - relearning algebra in the process mind you. I got the letters of recommendation, I wrote the essay, and I got in. Me, by myself. And I did all that knowing I was going to have to pay for it, too. So...I _want_ to pay for it myself.”

Steve listened - that was something. But it was clear when he spoke again that he didn’t agree. “Okay, Buck,” he said. “I get that you did all of that on your own. But, that was when we were broken up. We’re not anymore, and I don’t want you saddling yourself with debt. So...I totally respect your autonomy here, but...just let me pay?”

So much for gentle. “Are you kidding me right now?” he said, hackles raised. “I _just_ explained why it’s important that I do this on my own.”

“Yes, I heard you.”

“Ugh, it doesn’t fucking matter. It’s done - I already paid for the first semester. You can’t like...break in and re-pay for it. So can we drop it?”

“No,” Steve said immediately. “We can’t. You should have invested the severance money, Buck. You could get a decent rate of return on an IRA, rollover your old 401k from StarkTech into it, and then you’d have a leg up when you started…”

Steve. Was such. A _dork_. “Steeeeeeeeve, Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “No! It’s my money, I wanted to pay for school!”

“But I can pay for school! It’s...Bucky, do you know how much money I have? I could...shit, I could start the Bucky Barnes is a Stubborn Ass scholarship, call NYU and donate a few million to fund it and insist on you being the first recipient.”

Bucky stabbed his fork into another bun, glaring across the room. “If you do that,” he said darkly. “I will turn down the scholarship. _And_ I will take out _extra_ loans to _spite you_.”

Steve studied him, slurping some noodles into his mouth in a furious and dramatic fashion. “You,” he said evenly. “Are being unreasonable.”

“Well _you_ ,” he replied sweetly. “Can’t force me to take your money.”

That particular observation sent Steve into a sulk - he got quiet and really into his food, ignoring Bucky completely. And yes, Bucky felt bad, but only a _little_ bad. He did understand that Steve was trying to make his life easier, but he didn’t want to feel indebted to his boyfriend. Not for that amount of money. He’d sleep better at night knowing that, if nothing else, his fate was in his own hands. Or Sallie Mae’s hands. Regardless, it was his name on the dotted line.

Steve did look sad, though, frowning into his dinner. Once Bucky had finished his own food he patted the couch next to him to get Steve’s attention, looking at him beseechingly when he glanced up.

“Oh, what?” Steve said. “Now you want something from me?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied, ignoring Steve’s tone in the interest of making up. “Please? I’m cold, come warm me up.”

“It’s August,” Steve said dryly.

“I have poor circulation.”

Steve was hiding a laugh when he got up from the chair. Bucky scooted closer once he sat down, reaching for his hand and squeezing lightly.

“I do appreciate the offer, Stevie,” he said quietly.

Steve sighed, squeezing back before turning and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple. “I don’t love this, Buck. But...alright. Your choice.”

“Thank you.”

Things were still tense when they went back to the food, though not as bad as they had been. Steve was uncharacteristically quiet, so Bucky gave him his space. Once they were through with dinner, they headed to the den to watch a movie, which seemed like a good, neutral activity. Bucky took up his usual spot, curled on his side, head in Steve’s lap, Steve’s fingers in his hair.

The movie was kind of terrible. When it was finished, it became clear that Steve’s mind had been elsewhere throughout.

“Can we compromise?” he asked as the credits started to roll.

“Compromise?” Bucky echoed, unsure of precisely what he meant.

“On the money?”

Bucky frowned, rolling onto his back so he could see him properly. “Steve…”

“Just...hear me out. I get you on the tuition, Buck, I do. You’ll take care of that. But you’re also going to need books, and walking around money. I know for a fact you’re going to want to go out with Nat and Peter and...that Barton kid. That’s not free.”

He wasn’t wrong, though Bucky hadn’t spent a lot of time considering where his fun money was coming from. “I’ve still got the coffee shop…”

“Which is a forty-five-minute subway ride into Brooklyn every time you have a shift,” Steve countered. “Look, what if I gave you some money every month? Transferred it to you. No questions asked. Use it for whatever you want. It’s not your tuition. It’s just…”

“Like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?” he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

Steve laughed, reaching down to swat his hip lightly. “No, asshole, like you deserve to spend the next couple years focused on school, and I can make that a little easier on you. But you’re still...shouldering the bulk of it. By yourself.”

Bucky thought that over while Steve absently ran his fingers up and down his arm, making him shiver. The idea was appealing - he’d gotten used to being able to go out when he wanted to, buy things for himself, all the fun of a regular salary. The coffee shop wasn’t coming close to matching that, and Steve was right: the commute was shit for the money he made. Taking fun money wasn’t the same as taking tuition. If they broke up - and they _weren’t_ going to break up - he’d be okay. Plus, it would make Steve happy to help him out, and it would end the fight. Seemed like a win-win, in his book.

“I...okay,” he said. “How much?”

Steve honestly looked like he hadn’t considered the question. “Um...three-thousand a month?”

“What? No!” Bucky couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud. “Shit, that’s way more than I made at StarkTech!”

“Oh,” Steve said. “It didn’t sound like a lot!”

“Oh my God, do you think a banana costs like ten dollars, Lucille Bluth?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind. I don’t need three thousand, Jesus. I’m not exactly paying rent to live here.”

Steve sighed, pushing his free hand through his hair. “So how much is a normal amount?”

“Um, like...five hundred?” he offered. “Maybe seven if I need to buy Christmas presents for people?”

Steve thought about that, frowning as he worked through some calculation in his head. “Eleven hundred, final offer.”

“What?” Bucky laughed. “No, you can’t counter-offer, that’s not how this works!”

“It works how it works. Eleven hundred, final offer, and I don’t know, you take Natasha out to dinner sometimes, and donate to a couple charities.”

Bucky grinned up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you said there weren’t conditions on how I spent my money, Stevie?”

“Bucky, I swear to God, it’s like you try to be difficult.”

Well. Steve wasn’t wrong about that. But Bucky was pretty sure he liked it. “Fine,” he smiled. “It’s a deal. Eleven hundred. You can like...Venmo it to me.”

“Venmo?”

“Ugh, I will show you later, Mrs. Bluth.”

“Hey, smartass,” Steve said, smirking as he nudged Bucky’s head with his knee. “You’re asking to get punished, you know that?”

Oh. Make-up sex, Steve style. Hmm, being punished sounded intriguing, to say the least. Even if he was being punished for, apparently, being a smartass and calling Steve Lucille Bluth. Seemed as good a reason as any. Of course, he could say no, show Steve how to use Venmo and go to bed early. Or they could see how this played out. If nothing else, it would hopefully push the fight right out of their heads.

Easy choice.

“I am?” he said, batting his eyelashes in what he hoped was a perfect show of innocent submission. Or something like that. “Gosh, I sure hope you don’t put me over your knee, Mister.”

“Oh my God,” Steve snorted, closing his eyes in an attempt to retain his composure. When he opened them again, the mood had changed, and he shifted his weight so he could hook his fingers into the waistband of Bucky’s sweats and roll him right over. Ugh, Bucky loved it when Steve got manhandle-y, mostly because he loved the fact that Steve was strong.

“Scoot up,” Steve said, his voice taking on the clear authority that meant Bucky shouldn’t second-guess him.

Bucky did what he was told, wriggling until his rear end was squarely over Steve’s lap. He could rest his head on the arm of the couch, his legs lying comfortably on the other half. It was a little embarrassing, as far as positioning went, but he could handle it.

Still, he shivered when Steve’s hand came to rest on his upturned ass. Even with his pants on, the position was vulnerable. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” Steve teased.

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, just as Steve’s hand rose and fell. Not that hard, but enough to remind him that Steve _could_ do it harder.

“What’s that, Buck?”

“I _said_ ,” he repeated. “That’s not _true_.”

Steve didn’t bother to respond, just cracked out six more light(ish) smacks across Bucky’s backside. “Biggest brat in the fuckin’ universe.”

“I’m not a brat,” Bucky retorted.

“Only a brat would deny they’re a brat,” Steve said, giving him a particularly hard swat that actually did sting. Bucky yelped, jerking forward and trying to ignore the way his cock was thickening up against Steve’s thigh. Traitor. “So are you?”

He scowled, looking back over his shoulder. “No.”

Steve grinned. Then, he started up again, spanking Bucky with some intent behind it, until he was squirming on his lap. It still wasn’t super painful, but he was sore by the time Steve stopped.

Funnily enough, he found he liked that. Just a little. They’d played games like this before, but never anything so formal.

“How’s that feel?” Steve asked once he’d settled.

Bucky huffed, and maybe he just felt like pushing boundaries. So he shrugged and turned his head again, smiling sweetly. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you punishing me? I didn’t notice.”

He could tell Steve was biting back a laugh, forcing himself to school his features into something stern. It was a good look on him. “Bucky…” he said, shaking his head. “Stand up.”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but Steve liked to keep him on his toes. He did as he was told, getting to his feet and looking down at Steve, who was looking right back up at him, considering. Scrutinizing. Steve nodded eventually, getting to his feet and crossing to one of the big, leather armchairs that were mostly just for show - they never sat in them.

“Come here, pal,” Steve said gravely, which sent a shiver right down Bucky’s spine. He felt like a school kid getting detention, which was probably the point. Was it weird that he was so into getting spanked like a little kid? Probably. But everyone had strange shit. He _liked_ this, liked when Steve took charge. Liked being good for Steve (or not so good sometimes).

Steve looked him up and down once he settled, raising an eyebrow. “Pants down this time.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Bucky was going red right to the tips of his ears, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Something felt strange, but he didn’t know how to say it, or even what it was. “I…” he started, shrugging.

Steve picked up on his reluctance, reaching out and taking his hand, dropping the stern facade. “Hey,” he said quietly. “What is it?”

Bucky took a minute to think about it, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was that he didn’t like. Being naked was fine - he was naked around the house all the time. Hell, if it weren’t for the housekeeper he’d probably never wear clothes. Too constraining. But he didn’t want to undress himself, and he hoped he wasn’t being too much of a brat in asking Steve for a favor. “Just...can you do it?”

Steve smiled and squeezed his fingers. “Yeah, Buck. Come here.”

He was careful, drawing Bucky down and over his lap. The chair didn’t give Bucky nearly as much leverage, his torso hanging down and toes touching the floor. Steve coaxed him to lift his hips once he was settled, before easing his sweats down. It was stupid, but being undressed that way, over Steve’s lap, it felt...safer? He couldn’t think of a better word to describe it, even if it didn’t make total sense to him.

“Okay?” Steve asked, running his hand over Bucky’s leg.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, finding something pleasurable in the way he could feel the air-conditioned coolness of the room on his bare skin. Steve was just holding him, though, and Bucky couldn’t help but wonder how to get him to start back up again. They weren’t using weirdo stoplight safewords, but he’d stopped the action, so it was probably up to him to re-engage. “Do I say green now?”

“You can say green if you’re green,” Steve said, shifting his weight a little to pin Bucky’s still-interested prick between his thigh and Bucky’s stomach. “Little brat.”

Bucky could tell he was testing the waters - he was good at that. Smiling, he looked back over his shoulder, though the angle made it hard to see Steve’s face. “Then call me Kermit.”

Steve groaned, huffing out a “Jesus Christ” which gave Bucky a couple seconds to be proud of his stupid joke before his spanking began in earnest. Steve wasn’t holding back as much as he had before - the first few stinging slaps quickly settled into something more painful and intense. Steve had a big hand, and he knew how to use it, setting a rhythm and alternating both the force and the speed of the blows, so Bucky never knew what was coming next.

When Steve laid a smack right on the spot where Bucky’s left thigh met his ass, he cried out, right leg kicking. His hand moved reflexively, jerking up to try and cover the spot. Steve caught his wrist quickly, pinning his arm behind his back.

“Don’t kick, brat,” he said, laying another hard slap to the same damn spot on the opposite thigh. Bucky whined, fighting against Steve’s hold as he jerked his hips in protest. That, of course, only served to generate more friction for his neglected cock, which was enjoying his spanking _far_ too much. “And quit squirming.”

“It _hurts_ ,” he snapped.

“It’s supposed to hurt,” Steve said. “It’s a punishment.”

Steve sucked. Bucky didn’t like him at _all_ (except for how he loved him very much). He was also, as it turned out, really good at spanking. Bucky hadn’t been spanked _officially_ before, like the kind of spanking where he was over someone’s knee. Everything he and Steve had done previously had been more, well, sexy spanking. So this was new, and he didn’t have a lot to compare it to, but he was pretty sure Steve was a spanking wizard. Or something.

Mostly because it hurt a lot, but never _too_ much. Steve instinctively knew when Bucky was close to his breaking point - he’d pull back, go a little easier, rub his skin or give him a break for a few seconds. Eventually, he had Bucky in tears of pain, frustration, embarrassment, and a million other emotions that he couldn’t quite figure out. He felt like he was on fire, right to his core, every nerve ending lit up for Steve. There was probably some psychological explanation for what he was experiencing, but he wasn’t about to start parsing it out right then.

All he knew was that it culminated in his crying out an, “I’m sorry!” as Steve finished up a particularly sharp series of smacks.

“What was that, brat?” he said, giving him one more for good measure.

“I said I’m sorry!”

“What for?”

Fuck a duck, Bucky couldn’t remember. Wracking his brain, he brought his free hand up to rub at his eyes. “For being a brat?”

“Yeah, that’s one thing you should be sorry for,” Steve agreed, his hand rising and falling again, which: Ouch.

“For...and for being a smartass? And…” He couldn’t _remember_ , probably it was some stupid _Steve_ reason. Why had he even wanted to play this game in the first place? ( _Because you get off on it_ , his brain helpfully supplied.) His hesitation took long enough that Steve spanked him again, right on a sore spot. Bucky bit back a cry, twisting around on Steve’s lap as best he could and glaring at him. “Fuuuuck you, I’m trying to apologize!”

Steve burst out laughing, and Bucky couldn’t help cracking a grin in return. “I ought to wash your mouth out with soap,” Steve said once he’d recovered. “Fuckin’ filthy language, Buck.”

Bucky made a face, sticking his tongue out. “No, thank you.”

Steve considered him, trailing a finger over his reddened skin and making him shiver. “No, huh? Guess I’ll have to stick somethin’ else in your mouth instead.”

Oh, yes. Bucky liked that idea. Steve knew it, too, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Alright then, little brat. Get on your knees and show me how good you can be.”

Bucky’s cock twitched at the command. He wasted no time in scrambling up from Steve’s lap, though he managed to get himself tangled in his pants in the process, tripping and landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Scowling, he kicked off the offending clothing, wrapping a hand around his prick absently as he settled on his knees. Because it felt good, and his ass was on fire.

He regretted it the minute Steve’s eyebrow shot up. “Uh uh, kiddo,” he said. “Hands behind your back.”

Bucky bit his lip, cheeks going red as he did as he was told. “Yes, sir,” he said. Which: what? Where the fuck had _that_ come from? He’d never called Steve sir unless it was a joke. Still, Steve’s eyes darkened at the use of the epithet, so it probably hadn’t been a _bad_ idea.

“Use your mouth,” Steve said quietly, with unmistakable authority. “And get me off. Little brat.”

Bucky could do that. He could make Steve happy, make him come. It struck him that the only thing he wanted in his _life_ was to make Steve come. Though, that was probably his sex-brain talking. Scooting forward, he nuzzled his face right up against the bulge in Steve’s pants. Fuck. _Pants_. Steve hadn’t changed out of his suit yet, though he’d ditched the jacket and belt, along with undoing a few buttons on his shirt. Still, pants were a problematic proposition without hands in the mix. All the buttons and zippers and, damn it, probably underwear.

“Quit stalling.” Steve’s hand moved to fist in Bucky’s hair, pulling his head back enough that any forward movement he made resulted in some pain to his scalp.

Whatever. Hairpulling was nothing compared to spanking, and Bucky was nothing if not determined. So he pressed his face right up against Steve’s waistband, using his teeth and making a game attempt to pop the button. It took him a few tries, the material damp with saliva by the time he succeeded. Stupid expensive pants. The zipper was easier, though the feel of the metal against his teeth reminded him of nails on a chalkboard.

He could see the outline of Steve’s cock against his black briefs, and he had no clue how he was going to get those out of the way without some assistance. So he bought himself as much time as he could, mouthing against the cotton, getting it wet, teasing Steve. It seemed to be working, as Steve shifted above him, hand tightening in his hair.

“Good, brat,” he murmured, his voice pitched lower. Always an encouraging sign. “You need a little help?”

Bucky looked up and nodded, giving Steve the sort of pout he knew from experience was hard to resist. Steve smiled, releasing his hold on Bucky’s hair, then lifting his hips and pushing his clothing down just enough that Bucky could get to work. And work he did, wrapping his lips around the head of Steve’s cock, tonguing the slit eagerly. Steve was so predictable, his hand finding its way back into Bucky’s hair as he bucked his hips up, pressing into Bucky’s waiting mouth, maybe a bit faster than he was anticipating.

“You wanna stop,” Steve grunted. “Use your left hand, hit my calf three times. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, though it came out muffled.

Steve was feeling neither gentle nor kind, his hand twisted in Bucky’s hair, fucking up and into his mouth. Bucky found himself floating, the same way he always did when Steve used him like that. Not for the first time, he reflected briefly on how damn weird it was that he _liked_ this so much. How it turned him on to have Steve treat him this way. How his own cock was aching for some attention, but at the same time, he didn’t mind neglecting his own pleasure for Steve’s sake.

Because what made Steve happy was Bucky’s lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him down, occasionally pressing his tongue against that particular ridge that drove him fucking crazy. Steve was talking, as usual, calling Bucky everything from a fuckin’ brat to the best boy in the world as he babbled.

Bucky could tell when he was close, and when he felt Steve start to shoot off, he pulled back so that the come striped his face instead of landing in his mouth. Bucky, they’d discovered, was really into facials, keeping his mouth open, so some landed on his tongue as well. For variety. Steve sat back after a minute, sated and panting, his eyes fixed on Bucky’s messy face.

“Little _brat_ ,” he said, affection coloring his tone.

Bucky smiled, looking up and drinking Steve in. He always looked so blissed out after he came, and there was a particular pride Bucky could take in knowing he was the one who’d gotten him there.

Although speaking of getting there, his own body was making its needs very clear, cock jutting up, swollen with want, pre-come leaking from the tip. Bucky was trying to ignore it, but it was _hard_ \- pun not intended.

Steve was a considerate sort of guy, though. Once he’d had a moment to recover, he looked down at Bucky and smiled. “Huh,” he teased. “Look at that, Buck.” Moving his foot between Bucky’s legs, he pressed it right up against his prick, trapping it against his stomach and rubbing lightly. Who knew socks felt so fucking good? Bucky gave a keening whine, hips moving involuntarily because that was  _fantastic_.

“Aw, kiddo,” Steve teased. “You wanna come?”

“Please, sir?” Bucky replied (because that was apparently going to be a thing tonight).

“I dunno,” he said, pretending to consider. “You were _such_ a brat, and you had _such_ a smart mouth. You probably ought to just...go to bed.”

Bucky really had been trying to be good. But there was a fucking limit. The idea of being left unsatisfied provoked an actual mini-tantrum, and he kicked his foot against the ground before crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

“No?” Steve echoed, raising an eyebrow, increasing the pressure.

“I mean…” Bucky bit his lip. “Sorry, sir. Please? Not no. I’ll be good.”

Steve regarded him closely before reaching over to the side table and grabbing a couple tissues from a box that was there, handing them over and pulling his foot away. “Fine,” he said, feigning boredom. “Just take care of it quickly. Don’t make a mess.”

Bucky wasn’t about to second-guess Steve’s decision. Was there something humiliating about masturbating on the floor in front of his boyfriend, while said boyfriend pretended to be completely disinterested? Yup. Did Bucky like it even more because of that? Extra yup.

It didn’t take long - he caught everything in the tissues, more or less, then used them to clean himself up. He made a game attempt to clean up the mess on his face, too, though that was less successful. Steve watched him the entire time, his expression softening to something affectionate by the time Bucky was through.

“Come here, baby,” he coaxed, patting his lap. Bucky didn’t waste time in clambering up, only to remember his predicament when his ass hit Steve’s thighs, making him wince. “Ohhh, no,” Steve laughed. “Does that hurt?”

Bucky pouted, which wasn’t dignified, but it was what he could manage. “You _know_ it does.”

“I do know that,” Steve said. “Why don’t we go to bed and you can lie on your front?”

Bucky was fine with that. They headed upstairs, where Bucky settled on his stomach as Steve went rooting around in the bathroom for something. Whatever it was felt nice when he rubbed it onto Bucky’s burning skin.

“That hurt,” he reiterated, pillowing his left cheek on his arms while Steve worked.

“It was supposed to,” Steve replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I liked it. We just...never did it like that before.”

“I know.” Steve finished what he was doing with the lotion before stretching out next to Bucky. “I’ve been wanting to try it.”

“M’glad you did,” he said, stifling a yawn.

“Me, too,” Steve smiled, reaching out to touch his cheek lightly, then leaning in for a kiss. “I like seeing you try new things - long as you’re having fun.”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” Bucky said.

“You would,” Steve agreed, smiling. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“So predictable,” Steve teased. “You sleep, I’m going to go clean up downstairs.”

“Okay, boring.” He smiled when Steve rolled his eyes before swooping in for one more kiss.

 

* * *

 

**About Three Years Later**

 

“Fuck,” Bucky sighed, pushing his tablet away. “Fucking _idiots_.”

“What?” Steve said, glancing up from his sketch.

“I got a notification saying my automatic payment didn’t process because there’s a zero balance on my stupid loan,” he groused. The website for his lender was the jankiest piece of crap ever, and he was constantly fighting against their antiquated autopay system, which had forgotten to draft his account _three times_ so far.

“Oh,” Steve said absently. “No, that’s right. We paid them off.”

Bucky looked over in confusion. “What?”

“Communal property, pal,” Steve said, looking like the cat who got the cream. “I don’t need my husband’s shitty student loan debt fucking up my credit score.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile as he got up from his sprawl on the sofa. He walked across the room to kiss the top of Steve’s head, sighing. “Number one, that’s now how credit scores work, and you know it. Number two, you should have told me.”

“Eh,” Steve shrugged. “You would have been a brat about it and then let me do it anyway. I wanted to surprise you.”

Bucky smiled, tousling Steve’s hair in that way he _hated_. “Probably,” he agreed. “I’m gonna go make a sandwich, you want anything?”

“I’m good.”

Bucky stuck his head back into the room a couple minutes later. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be explicitly clear from a BDSM perspective: Bucky and Steve have established safewords, and are in a semi-24/7 dynamic. Bucky is not, in any way, being punished for saying no to the money. This is just their kinky version of makeup sex...and Steve getting his own back for being called Lucille Bluth. As with most real-life BDSM, a lot of it is predicated on how well one knows and trusts one's partner. These two know each other pretty damn well.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [notlucy](https://notlucy.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Steve:  
> 
> 
> Bucky:  
> 


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